I didn’t set my alarm this morning. Four decades and a year deserves that, right? But I hear the baby in the night and trip over my flip flops, and another child, to get to her and – gross – was that sand I felt fall out of our sheets?!
Nights at the soccer field, evenings calling out two sets of spelling words like an auctioneer speaking for gain, throwing together dinner, and catching bad attitudes, unkind words, and spills almost before they hit the floor…or the heart.
I don’t do it all and I don’t do it well. But, because of grace, I do some and I’m thankful I get to.
My friend, the epitome of health, is diagnosed with cancer and I can’t help but wonder how much longer I have.
How much longer to make bottles, sign planners, sort laundry, give lingering hugs, plan class schedules, and shuffle papers? To pray, plead, laugh, correct, instruct, listen, ask forgiveness, and dance like Paula Abdul?
Forty-one years of my life already are gone. But I have this day. One tired, sometimes bleak, always imperfect day, gifted and waiting to be spent, invested, redeemed.
There’s a lot of talk about not wasting your life. But I have to remind myself that starts with not wasting my day. This
day. No matter how it unfolds, what it involves, and how I feel about it all.
So, this day, I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sister, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:12-14)